


A Visitor to 221B

by DaisyFairy



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:46:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6467230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/pseuds/DaisyFairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's Nan comes for a visit. Someone needs to sort those boys out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Visitor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mattsloved1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattsloved1/gifts).



> So I read "A Country Visit" by mattsloved1, which was a lovely story, and that got me thinking about John's Nan, and then this sort of happened. It is finished, just editing the other chapters. So, I hope this is ok, I am still pretty new to writing.

John's Nan is visiting today. She is rather elderly, so it is rare for her to make the trip to London, but it is her birthday and John’s Aunt has promised her a trip to the theatre. She is stopping in for an hour before the show, while Aunt Joy runs a few errands.

Sherlock has been instructed to be on his best behaviour, and all experiments have been banished to his room. The flat is tidier than it has ever been, with John insisting that she could not leave believing that her Grandson lived in a pig sty, even if it is technically true.

Normally John goes to visit her every couple of months, so Sherlock has only ever met her once, briefly being introduced at John's wedding to Mary. John had suggested that his flatmate should go out whilst she was visiting, but his Grandmother had insisted that she wanted to meet him properly.

Sherlock is sitting in his chair slightly nervously. Normally he couldn't care less what anyone thought of him, but John matters, so by extension the good opinion of his Grandmother seems to be very important.

A knock at the door downstairs announces their arrival and John dashes out of the kitchen and down the stairs to let them in. A few minutes later two older women come into the flat followed by John. Given the time taken to get up the stairs it is obvious that either one or both of the women has mobility problems, hardly surprising given that one of them is in her sixties, and the other is 89 years old today.

Aunt Joy gives John a brief hug and promises to return in an hour, she bids farewell to the older woman and leaves the flat, Sherlock can tell from her carefully footsteps on the stairs that she favours her right leg.

"Happy Birthday Mrs Watson." Sherlock says to the elderly woman, who is now being helped into John's armchair. She has midlength white hair that is carefully styled with curls, and is wearing a pair of black trousers with a pastel coloured patterned blouse, and sensible black shoes. She beams at him and replies "Thank you,  Sherlock. You know John is always talking about you, every time I see him. Call me Nan, please."

Sherlock returns the smile and says "Of course." But gives a slightly confused look at John.

John is standing behind her so shrugs at Sherlock, he doesn't know why she wants Sherlock to call her Nan, but he isn't going to argue the point, they are unlikely to meet very often anyway. He is just going into the kitchen to get tea when she says "So John, when can I be expecting you to get married? I haven't got that much longer you know, and I would like to see some Great-Grandchildren before I pop off."

John comes back into the room so that she can see him "Nan, don't say things like that. You've got years left."

She waves her hands at him "Come on, I'm 90 next year, at my time of life you have to start being realistic about these things. And stop avoiding the question young man."

"Anyway, you have Great-Grandchildren. Colin and David are both married with children." Sherlock looks confused again so John explains "My cousins, Aunt Joy's sons."

"Colin lives in Australia, and David is in Scotland, I'm lucky of I see them once a year, I want some little ones to spoil while I still can, so I am looking to you."

"What about Harry?" John says, trying to deflect the attention from himself so that he doesn't have to talk about his lack of a love life.

"Oh Johnny, we both know she won't be getting married, a girl like that, she won't be having any children."

John stiffens in shock at the homophobic comment, looking over he sees Sherlock about to open his mouth so he quickly says "Sherlock, could you help me with the tea please?" Then practically drags the man away before he can say anything.

In the kitchen John gets the tea ready and starts putting some cakes onto a tray as he whispers "Just let it go, please. She's old, all this LGBT stuff must have passed her by."

"I hardly think that is an excuse for homophobia John." Sherlock whispers back.

"Please, for me. She really is lovely, she must have just lost touch with how things are now days."

Sherlock huffs and nods his agreement.

The two men walk back into the lounge, Sherlock carrying the tray of cakes, and John a tray with the teapot, cups and saucers.

"John Hamish Watson. Don't think you can distract me with cakes. Just because your sister is a hopeless alcoholic who will never find a girl to put up with her doesn't let you off the hook." She says, obviously tiring of his evasion.

John and Sherlock exchange embarrassed looks at the assumption they had made. His Grandmother was right after all that Harry's drinking was making it look increasingly unlikely that she would be able to settle down.

"You aren't blameless in this either young man." She says turning to Sherlock. "There is no reason you couldn't have proposed by now. I don't know, you young people wasting time like it goes on forever."

John stares at her and says "You think the two of us are going to get married and have children?"

"Well of course you are. I'm not an idiot, the way you go on about him every time I see you, and in that blog of yours and the way you were when we all thought he had died. Six years you boys have messed around, but I'm not getting any younger you know, I have a nice hat picked out to wear, bought it as soon as he came back from the dead."

"My blog?" John asks, the fact of his elderly grandmother on a computer was the only part that he could cope with focusing on right now.

"Yes your mum set me up on the internet and I do like to see what you've been up to.'

"I'm not gay. I did get married you know, to a woman, Mary. You could have worn your hat at that wedding."

The old lady pulls a face "I wasn't going to waste my best hat on the likes of her. Never liked her, could tell soon as I looked at her she was a nasty piece of work." She looks at Sherlock and smiles "No, this one Johnny, this is the one for you. Just look at the way he's looking at you."

John looks at Sherlock, who is staring at him in turn with a bemused look on his face. 

"But I'm not gay." John says uncertainly.

"Oh don't be ridiculous." She says, then turning to Sherlock she says in a confiding tone "His Grandad was the same way you know. He was a John too. My John was in love with Bob the butcher, well butchers son as was, only became the butcher when his poor dad died, heart attack, only 60 the poor man. Not that we talked about it you know, it wasn't done in those days, but he loved me in his own way, and he made a lovely dad to Joy and Paul."

John is gaping at her in amazement. "Grandad had an affair with a man?"

"No, no. He was a married man. We took our vows seriously in those days, not like now, getting divorced at the drop of a hat. Although, maybe in some cases it is a good thing." She says looking at John.

"No. They were in love. Well it was obvious to anyone with eyes, but, well they could have got in trouble with the law back then, and it wasn't the done thing, so John married me, and Bob married Vera. We all rubbed along, the four of us, had some great times, even all went on holiday down to the coast together with the little ones a few times. They had their weekly night in the pub, and in the summer they went fishing. Sad really that they couldn't be together, but then you wouldn't be here would you, so maybe it's all for the best." 

John sits down hard on the sofa in shock at these revelations. His Nan is in full reminiscing mode now, he had seen it all his life, but never about this, it had always been stories of his Dad and Aunty when they were kids, or places his Nan and Grandad used to go.

"Oh, my John took it hard when Bob died, only 63, not much older than his dad, went of a heart attack just the same. And then Vera went a few years later, and my John of course. He made it to 71, died of cancer, well you know all that John. I like to think of the three of them up there, just waiting for me, a few more years yet I hope though."

John suddenly realises the teapot is still on the table "Tea?" He asks faintly, pouring out three cups. He adds milk and sugar and hands the cups around .

"So boys, when can I get my hat out, if you are done with all this "not gay" nonsense."

"But I'm not gay." He protests.

"Oh love, don't do that to your young man. It isn't fair to keep saying that when he is so in love with you, just look at him." John looks at Sherlock, trying to work out what she is seeing, but his flatmate just looks the same as he always does.

"This is your Dad's doing you know," She says sighing "he's convinced you that you don't like men. He always had a problem with it, ever since he found out about his dad and Bob. That's why he was so hard on poor Harriet all those years ago when she came out."

"Dad knew?"

"Yes, well, he saw the two of them together when he was a teenager."

"You said they didn't have an affair." John says, trying to keep up.

"They didn't, but, a snog under the mistletoe, well that doesn't count does it? It's traditional after all. Your dad was so angry, dead set against any of that kind of thing ever since.

Oh, I knew you took after your grandad ever since you were a little one, maybe a bit more of an eye for the ladies than him, but still, you had an eye for the boys too. But your dad, any time he thought you were getting too friendly with a lad he would put a stop to it, remember how he got you to switch football teams when you got friendly with that lad, what's his name?"

"George." John supplies quietly.

"Yes that's it, lovely lad he was. Didn't see him after that though did you. Your dad, I tried telling him, but he wouldn't have it, wasn't my place to do anything. He was always encouraging you to ask out the girls, going on about how you were a man and needed a wife to provide for. Brainwashing I call it, but enough is enough. I am too old to sit around waiting any more to see my favourite grandson happy so you two lads just need to get on with things." There is a beeping sound from her bag and she pulled out a mobile phone, waving it proudly she declared "See, your mum sorted this out for me too." She answers the phone and then hanging up says, "Your Aunt is downstairs holding a taxi for us so I had best be going. Have fun boys." She says with glee.  She takes a small brown paper bag out of her handbag and leaves it on the coffee table, stands and walks slowly out of the room.

Throughout this exchange Sherlock has been sitting in rapt attention, soaking in every word, and completely unable to think of anything to say. Now that she is leaving he stands to say goodbye and to see her out, but John is too shocked to do more than give her a distracted wave and a mumbled "Have a good time."

Sherlock sits down in his armchair when she is gone and opens the bag she has left. He tips the contents onto the table and the two men stare at them in astonishment. There is a pack of condoms and a bottle of strawberry flavoured lube.

John closes his eyes and says, "Please take then away, I don't want those from my grandmother, it's just wrong." Sherlock picks then up and hides them in his desk drawer, then sits on the sofa next to John. They both seem to be a little dazed.

"Well John, I certainly didn't expect meeting your grandmother to be like that."

"No."

"It was rather a fascinating glimpse into history."

"Yes, I suppose it was from your point of view."

"And some interesting insights into your childhood."

"Yes."

"I think I like her. You know how rare it is for me to like people, but I really do like her."

"That's good." says John woodenly. "Do you think she's right? Am I gay?"

"I think she was saying you are a deeply closeted bisexual."

"But do you think she is right?"

"She was right about Mary," Sherlock says, then much quieter "and she is right about me."

"What do you mean, right about you?"

"Me being in love with you." He says, almost whispering now.

"She said to look at how you were looking at me, but it just looked the same as always."

"That's probably because I have always been in love with you. I didn't realise it until the pool, but I'm fairly certain I feel in love with you when you shot the cabbie."

"Ah, that explains it then." John says, staring blankly at nothing. He stands and says, "I just need a bit of.." and trails off, he walks into his bedroom and shuts the door.


	2. Identity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly John's thoughts so I hope it makes sense...

Chapter 2

In John's room he sits heavily on his bed and starts to think. 

_This day is definitely not going as I thought. I was expecting tea and cakes with my Nan whilst running interference to stop Sherlock insulting her too much. Then after she left we would have got a takeaway and I would watch a film while Sherlock checked his email for cases and picked apart the plot. Now there was strawberry lube and condoms, and insinuations that my entire life is the result of brainwashing. Hell not even insinuations, she had come out and said it._

_Sherlock is in love with me. What does that even mean? He wants to be with me? He wants to kiss me? He wants more? He never said anything. Then again, how could he with my constant insistence of "not gay"? Leave that aside, what Sherlock feels doesn't matter. Well it does. A lot actually. I care about Sherlock and don't want to hurt him. But for now, just ignore it._

_Am I gay? **No!** I like women. Really like them. The sex is amazing, and they look so good. So, no, I'm not gay. Gay men don't like women like that. _

_But.... could I be bisexual? I have never touched a man in a sexual way, never kissed a man, or been on a date with one. But then the things I've done probably aren't the important part._

_I try to think about George. We had both been on the local football team when I was 15. I was friends with some of the lads, but me and George had really clicked, hanging out after practice, they had a real laugh. It was just friendship though, wasn't it? Sure I had fantasised about kissing him, maybe a bit more, but I was a teenage lad, sex on the brain, they all fantasised about all sorts, didn't they? It was normal, right? Right? Oh... Shit. Maybe not. There is lie number one I had told myself._

_What about that guy at medical school, Luke, he had asked me out. I said no. Of course I did, I'm not gay. But I had gone home and had a wank thinking about him. Natural curiosity I told myself. Who wouldn't wonder what two men got up to together? Who wouldn't think about it? Then the next night I had gone out and got pissed and pulled some girl, woke up in her bed the following morning. See, not gay, I had told myself, that proves it. Lie number two._

_Then, in the army, when I had caught myself staring at some of the others, working out, shirts off, muscles gleaming with sweat. It's just aesthetic appreciation, like looking at a statue, the human body is beautiful. That's all. Nothing else. Lie number three._

_All these lies, and many more not yet discovered, told to myself so convincingly, and pushed to the back of my mind. Ignored. So that I had never seen the pattern. I. Am. An. Idiot._

_Then there is Sherlock. Do I love him. Yes! Yes! Yes! Unequivocal. Totally. But what sort of love? Like a friend? Would I break a date, for a friend? Come halfway across London just because a friend texted that he was bored? No._

_But a best friend? Would I kill for a best friend? Had killed in the army, but that was different. Here in London. Where I could potentially go to jail? Maybe I would, for a best friend. The cabbie had been trying to kill him after all. What about the times I hadn't killed for Sherlock, but would have, given opportunity, a bit of luck, a slight bit more provocation. Just to stop the man from being injured, not killed, or hurt, not even really injured. No. Not for a best friend._

_A brother? Do I love Sherlock like a brother? No. Brothers would never, never think about each other naked. And I have. No point pretending now. Wondering what was under those clothes. I have seen most, patched the man up after fights and falls. But not everything. And I had been curious. That was all. Just curious. What did he look like naked? I didn't want to touch (lie), I didn't want to be touched (Lie!), I didn't want to... (LIE, LIE, LIE). Not brothers. Not brothers._

_Like a boyfriend then? No, can't be. **I'm not gay. I'm not.** I'm. Oh. I am. I, I love him. I have thought about it, but pushed it away, excused it, ignored it, denied it. But I am. So, like a boyfriend. It's scary. I'm scared. But it's Sherlock. He's not scary. Not to me. To others he is, he tears them down with his deductions, rends them apart if he needs to, but not me. He is kind to me. Not scary. But, a boyfriend? Would I dream of years ahead of us, growing old together, and I have. Told myself I had given up looking for love, would settle for this. But I wasn't settling. With a boyfriend? No. If it reached that point we wouldn't be boyfriends anymore We would. We would get married. _

_Oh. That's how it is. I love Sherlock. I love him like a husband. Oh. Do I want that? **But I'm not gay.** Shut up. **I'm not though.** Shut. Up. **I'm not gay.** Yes I am. _

_Sex. Sex with a man. Do I want that? Thought about it. Dismissed it, curious, that's all. But thought about it, yes. Lots. With Sherlock. Yes! **But, I'm not gay.** But, I am. **I'll be less of a man.** No I won't, **I will,** I won't. **I'll be submitting, if I let him do.. that to me. I would be less, I should be strong.** BUT I WANT HIM!! _

John has started to hyperventilate, he is curled in a ball on the bed and he is making panicked sounds, whimpers and moans, tears falling from his eyes as the argument inside rages on.

**_It will hurt._ ** _No, Sherlock wouldn't hurt me. **It must hurt.** No. **It's wrong.** SAYS WHO? ..... Dad. _

John's breath starts to slow slightly at the realisation that the negative voice inside, the one resisting, is his father. The man who made Harry's life miserable when she came out The man who drank too much and, never hit, but scared them, John, Harriet and his mum too if he is honest. The man who had been dead nearly 10 years and is barely missed by any of them. John had little respect for his father, and this was now turning to fury as he realised how the man had brainwashed him, causing him to miss out on years with Sherlock. His Nan is right, this comes from him. All of it. He opens his eyes and stands up, still scared, but he is a soldier, he can be brave. John opens the bedroom door.

 ------------------

Sherlock sits on the sofa unsure what to do. He had confessed to John that he loved him, and John had run away. That isn't the response he wanted. Not really surprising though, it is the response he had always thought he would get. He was dreading what would come next. Even now, with what the old lady had said, even if John is bisexual. If he doesn't want it to be true he will still reject Sherlock.

He thinks he hears sounds from John’s room, not sure if he should go in, but the sounds stop, so he stays on the sofa. Then the door opens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, an awkward conversation.


	3. An Awkward Conversation

John steps out of his room. His hair and clothes are dishevelled, he looks flushed, and his cheeks are damp from tears.

Sherlock stands and moves so they are face to face "Hello." he says.

"Hello."

"I love you." Sherlock admits softly.

"You said. I..I think I love you too."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

They stand and stare, neither knowing what to do next. Sherlock reaches out his fingertips to brush the collar of John's shirt, but he pulls his hand back as if it has been burnt at the first touch, and John flinches slightly.

John licks his lips and Sherlock can't help but drop his gaze to look at them, but he quickly looks away and stares at the fireplace instead.

"So, I seem to be bisexual."

"Good. Is that good? Do you? Is it good?" Sherlock asks awkwardly.

"I think so." John says.

"Ok. I'm gay, by the way. Just, well, thought you should know."

"Ok." 

They continue to stare.

"I've never been with a man." John says quietly.

"Me neither. Or, well, or anyone."

"But you're gay."

"Yes, just. I don't like people John. They are boring or irritating. And people don't like me. So, I've never found someone before who I liked enough to, you know, who also liked me enough in return to want to, you know."

"Not even casually? Not even when you were high?"

"I, Mycroft was right. Sex scares me. To be so vulnerable. I couldn't bear to do that with just anyone."

"But you could with me?"

"Yes. I trust you."

"Oh." John replies, unsure what else to say.

The staring continues, interspersed now with seriously contemplating the ceiling, floor and walls.

"I. Do you think I'm a man?" John asks.

Sherlock looks bemused "Yeees?" He answers uncertainly. "I saw you in the shower that time so, yes."

"No, I mean, like, masculine."

"As opposed to?"

John closes his eyes and sighs, turning away from Sherlock he whispers "If I let you do that to me, would you think I was less of a man."

"Do you mean if I penetrated you?" Sherlock asks, this is a difficult conversation, but he wants clarity, so he has to ask directly.

"Yes." John whispers.

"I love how strong you are. When you take charge, when I watch you restraining suspects. You are a man. I like men. I wouldn't think less of you. We don't have to though. Do that I mean. Not if you don't want to."

"Have you thought about it though?" John asks.

"Yes, and the other way round. You?"

"Yes."

They can't look at each other at all now, standing so close they would barely have to move to kiss, but avoiding each others gaze.

Eventually John has had enough, time to be the brave soldier. Well, kind of anyway, maybe a soldier making a strategic retreat. "I thought, earlier that is, I thought that tonight we would be having a takeaway and I would put on that film I told you about. Shall we do that?"

“Yes, let’s do that.” Sherlock agrees eagerly.

So John orders the food, brings some sort of order to his hair and clothing and finds the film while Sherlock makes tea and gets the plates and cutlery. When the food arrives, instead of sitting in their armchairs like normal they find themselves sitting together on the sofa. Not touching, but, close. They eat their food and the film plays, both men watching more intently than normal to avoid thinking about other things. Sherlock grumbles about the plot, the actors and continuity errors, and John chuckling at the comments. 

As the film is nearing the end, Sherlock spots a plot hole that makes 90% of the film pointless. John is filled with affection at the ridiculous man, who couldn't suspend disbelief if his life depended on it. He wants to hug him, but the little voice in his head says " **No.** " 

"Fuck off Dad." He thinks, and puts his arm around Sherlock's shoulders, pulling him close. Almost by instinct he presses a soft kiss into the curls at Sherlock's temple.

They both freeze, but then Sherlock continues his assassination of the plotline, John's arm still holding him close. John can't help but smile, he grabs Sherlock's chin with his free hand and pulls his face around, covering Sherlock's lips with his own to stop the stream of words. The kiss is brief and closed mouthed, but when they pull apart both of them are breathless. Mere millimeters separate them and John murmurs "That could be useful."

Sherlock giggles and playfully pushes him away. "Idiot."

John pulls him close again and says "Yes I was, but not anymore." He closes the gap, kissing the taller man fiercely. Sherlock is not entirely inexperienced in this, it had been necessary on many occasions to get close to people for cases, but it had never been this heated, this desperate. They are licking into each others mouths, sucking and moaning. Their hands are clawing at each others backs, trying to pull closer, until Sherlock ends up kneeling astride John leaning down to continue the kiss.

John can hear a small voice inside saying " **No, no, no, this is bad, wrong. Wrong, stop.** " But it is drowned out by another shouting "Yes, yes yes! This. Yes." Under the onslaught of rightness and how good this feels the small voice becomes so quiet that he can barely hear it. 

John stops and puts his hand gently on Sherlock's chest, pushing him back just far enough to break the kiss. Sherlock takes a shuddering breath and looks down at John with concerned eyes, has he changed his mind? 

"Bedroom?" John asks with a shy smile.

Sherlock nods, breathing hard and blinking rapidly. He is nervous, but has wanted this for so long he isn't going to let that spoil it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go!


	4. In the Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter, here it is!

They stand and walk into John's room. John can feel the awkwardness returning, so he pushes Sherlock onto the bed quickly and climbs on top of him tickling him mercilessly. It is intimate but not necessarily sexual, so breaks the tension effectively. Sherlock is stronger than he looks and begins to fight back, until the two men are in an all out tickle fight, writhing together on the bed and laughing manically.

John gets the upper hand, pinning Sherlock to the bed, kneeling astride his hips and holding his hands above his head. Their eyes meet and John dips his head to brush their lips together. They gaze into each others eyes and then kiss again, deeply but much less desperately than on the sofa. This kiss is one of devotion, and relief that finally they are together. John pulls back and reaches between them and with trembling hands undoes Sherlock's shirt buttons, biting his bottom lip. When the shirt is open he stares down at the pale, muscular and very male chest below him, it is perfect. He leans down and placed a kiss directly over Sherlock's heart, then sits back on his heels and pulls Sherlock up slightly so that he can slip the shirt off. He pulls his own shirt and t-shirt over his head, so that they are both naked from the waist up.

Sherlock leans up and touches, then kisses the scar John's shoulder that had brought them together. He gets a calculating look in his eye and quickly flips them, so that John is the one pinned underneath. John laughs in delight, this didn't feel like he was losing anything, this is all gain. This could be fun. "Is that how it is?" He growls playfully and flips them again, right over the edge of the bed. They land with a bump in a tangle of limbs, laughing hysterically. John climbs back into the bed, pulling Sherlock's arm to make him follow. They lay on their sides facing each other.

"You have given me a concussion." Sherlock accuses with a smile.

"I am a doctor, maybe I should check." John replies looking into the other man's eyes. He moves closer and kisses him firmly, just flicking his tongue inside briefly. "Seems fine to me."

"If that is how you check for concussion I might have to get Mycroft to revoke your medical licence." Sherlock jokes.

"Anywhere else?" John asks quietly.

"I think you may have broken my ribs too." Sherlock replies, his teasing tone tinged with nervousness.

"Let's see shall we?" John asks, and shuffles down the bed so that his face is level with Sherlock's chest. He kisses each of the too prominent ribs and then, giggling, declares "All better." before moving back up so that they are face to face again. 

Sherlock smiles again and teases "I really am going to have to talk to Mycroft about this you know. This level of medical care is simply unacceptable." 

"So Mr Holmes, any other injuries?" John asks, slightly nervous again now that things were about to become more serious.

Sherlock swallows hard then his eyes briefly flick down his body as he thinks of what to say next. He opens his mouth but quickly snaps it shut again when his nerves overtake his ability to speak. "Nothing else." He squeaks out, obviously not what he had originally been going to say. His eyes have turned evasive again and the nervousness is coming off him in waves.

John looks at his friend, and then pulls him close. "Me too." He mumbles into Sherlock's hair, to reassure that they were both feeling the same, aroused but nervous as hell.

John takes a breath to steady himself and then snakes his hand down to the buttons on Sherlock's trousers. Sherlock swallows and begins to shake slightly, he puts his hands onto John’s hips but keeps his eyes tightly shut.

As the buttons give way and John begins to push the expensive fabric apart the voice inside starts again, telling him this is wrong, John mentally stares down his father and the man vanishes under John's fury. He stills and examines Sherlock's face, the man is beautiful with his perfect pale skin, gorgeous lips and cheek bones. He is panting, trying to remain calm, and his eyes are screwed up as he tries to hide from his nerves. John loves this man, crazy love that would tear the world apart if necessary to keep him safe. That can't be wrong. John moves his hands back up Sherlock's body and rubs his back reassuringly. "It's just me," he whispers "please don't hide."

Sherlock slowly opens his eyes and peers through his long lashes. His voice is shaky but he says "Please continue."

John chuckles and smiles, returning his hands to Sherlock's trousers he completes his task by pushing them and his friend's pants down to mid thigh, allowing his hard penis to spring free. He closes his hand around it and swipes a thumb over the top, feeling the wetness that has gathered there. 

At the contact Sherlock gasps and his whole body stiffens, then he bites his lip and asks "Should I do you?"

"Only if you want." John replies gently, whilst beginning to stroke his friend, eliciting more gasps. The look on Sherlock's face is exquisite, pupils wide and his lips forming a little surprised o shape. John kisses those lips, and then begins to kiss and gently suck at his jaw line.

Sherlock reaches down and undoes John's button and zip, John lifting his hips so that he can push the clothing down to reveal the cock hidden inside. He gingerly touches John with his fingertips, the shaft twitches in response, he gently closes his hand around it and begins to move his fist up and down. John can't help looking down to see, the sight causing his breath to hitch.

Both men choose the same moment to look into each others faces, and their eyes lock as they continue to stroke. Sherlock is feeling much more confident now, he can feel his orgasm approaching from John's clever fingers, but fears that he is not doing quite so well at pleasing John. He removes his hand from John's shaft and, grabbing his lover's hip, pulls their pelvises together. Their cocks touch for the first time and the men groan in unison at the feeling of the hot flesh. Working in unison they push their cocks together and then with entwined hands continue to stroke.

They kiss urgently as they can feel heat building in their groins. They are both thrusting shallowly into their joined fist now, rubbing the engorged flesh together creating glorious friction. Sherlock comes first, the wonderful moaning sounds he makes and the twitching of his penis as it releases causing John to follow.

They do not stir for long moments, but then they move their arms to pull into a hard hug. Sherlock feathers kisses into John's hair, and John nuzzles into the taller man's neck.

After they have gotten their breath back Sherlock says "So, definitely bisexual then."

"Yeah. Seems that way."

They move to lay on their backs, Johns head pillowed on Sherlock's shoulder as the taller man’s arm comes around him.

"Should we tell your Nan to get her hat out?" Sherlock asks with a grin.

John laughs "That is the weirdest and most premature marriage proposal in the world." Then he whispers "Yes!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you have enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this. I love happy endings :-)


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